


A Case of You

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Hey, Pumpkin! Halloween Fics [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Practical Magic Fusion, But they have a great house, Darcy and Jane are half sisters, F/M, Smooshing together all my favorite parts of Practical Magic and the MCU, The Lewis women are unlucky in love, Tumblr Prompt, You'd totally hide that you're a family of witches from SHIELD, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26368480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: The Lewis women are notoriously unlucky in love--and good at witchcraft. They might be cursed. But Darcy Lewis found the perfect loophole at sixteen: she asked for a man who couldn't possibly exist. Ever.Until he shows up to ask questions about the body in their backyard.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Hey, Pumpkin! Halloween Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907872
Comments: 135
Kudos: 364





	1. Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> *I own nothing! Anonymous requested a Practical Magic AU for Halloween and I just HAD to do it. Fic title is the Joni Mitchell song from the soundtrack. TW: mentions of homophobia, slurs in the first section.

_Before Puente Antiguo_

“I’m baaaack from the land of the dead,” Darcy said in a sing-song voice, stomping her Doc Martens on the mat as she walked into the house. She heard her aunt’s chortle before she saw her. “Harper drove me home from school and I got the mail,” she said, setting the package for her aunts on the table and slinging her bag over a hook. Her Aunt Astrid looked up from the table where she was chopping herbs and smiled gently. Pots bubbled on the stove behind her. 

“How was your French club meeting?” Astrid asked. Astrid resembles Jane or Jane resembles Astrid, Darcy could never decide which. The same delicate features, the long brown hair threaded with gold. Only Jane is more stubborn. 

“Comme ci, comme ça,” Darcy said, gesturing airily. “We watched a French movie about a transgender girl, though.” She doesn’t tell Astrid about Billy Randall cat-calling her a witch bitch and her friend Harper a faggot in the empty hallway. Aunt Astrid’s too nice. Darcy wouldn’t want her to see how ugly people can be, how small and suffocating her hometown seems sometimes. One day, she’ll see the world, the real one. “Where’s Janeybug?” Darcy asked, snagging a bag of Cheetos from the cabinet. Her half-sister was back from college for a few fleeting summer weeks before she went off to do astronomy with her dad and back again to Culver. It is too far away. The house seems happier when Jane is there--even if Jane prefers stars to magic, Darcy always feels safer with Jane in residence, too. When she is the only Lewis girl, people say things, call her names, stare at her dark clothes. Jane punches them, but Darcy is always too stunned to react. Jane has been threatening to bring her back a taser. The aunts would probably think this was a bad idea. They’re slightly Luddites like that. 

“Upstairs,” Astrid said. “Thank you.” This was because Darcy remembered to wipe her feet and got the mail. “Her friend is asking for a love spell,” she added.

“Everyone asks for a love spell,” Darcy scoffed. Her aunts--Astrid and Maja--are notorious for the efficacy of their love spells. She added several cans of soda to her haul. Jane will enjoy cutting the rings. She likes repetitive tasks. And sea turtles. “Love spell,” she repeated, shaking her head. 

“One day you will, too,” Astrid called at Darcy’s retreating back as she tromped upstairs.

“Never!” Darcy yelled back. She loathed it all--the women begging for magic in the middle of the night, dumb Romeo and Juliet in her English class, the way people sigh about prom--and has sworn she will never, ever fall in love. Love is for goobers. Except she loved this house. Even if the house is old, Victorian, and creaky. Even though her bedroom door never shuts quite right, Darcy loved this house and was sure it would never leave her. At the top landing of the staircase, she peered out the window. In the sunlight, the panes of the little greenhouse sparkled. If she squinted, Darcy could see the protective magic around the house, the work of several generations. It looked like purple stars in the grass. The neighbors' cat was threading along the line.

“C’mon, Jane, you can do it,” a voice said, pulling her attention away from the window. “Help me.” Darcy paused in front of Jane’s bedroom door. The door was slightly ajar. Darcy recognized Jane’s friend Sarah. They’d had the same music class. 

“Get Darcy to help you,” Jane said, sounding absent-minded. Darcy can tell she’s reading. “She’s much better at that stuff than me,” Jane said.

“I dunno,” Sarah said. “She’s okay, right?”

“What?” Jane said.

“Well, you know--Darcy makes people nervous,” Sarah said, in a voice that sounded like a confession. 

“What?” Jane said.

“Everyone says she’s looks like that girl from the movie _The Craft,”_ Sarah said slowly. Darcy chose this moment to push the door open. 

“Just because I have a leather jacket and my Twitter bio includes the word weirdo, that doesn’t mean Nancy from _The Craft_ is my new life plan,” Darcy told her, stepping into the bedroom and setting down her snacks with a thump. Sarah had the decency to look embarrassed when Darcy rolled her eyes dramatically at Jane.

“Sorry,” she said, as Darcy studied her own reflection in the mirror over Jane’s dresser. She usually puts her long, curly hair in a messy top knot. Maybe, maybe she looked a teensy bit like Nancy, she thought, in full makeup. But Revlon Black Cherry was good lipstick. Also, Fairuza Balk was pretty. So, big freaking deal that it scared the kids who still wear white sneakers.

“Darcy would never do anything to hurt animals,” Jane added, face turned back to a biochem textbook. She still sounded distracted.

“That’s right,” Darcy said proudly. “I only hurt people.” 

“Stop messing with Sarah,” Jane said.

“I don’t know how some people live with themselves, being so unoriginal, is all,” Darcy said slyly, tilting her head towards the mirror. “Love spells and being scared of people in lipstick.” 

“She talks a big game, but she’s harmless. And her relationship with that jacket is codependent,” Jane said back, ignoring Darcy. 

“I love my jacket,” Darcy said, patting one of the sleeves. She snagged Jane’s eyeliner and added a little more under her eyes. “Purple’s new,” she said, when she realized it wasn’t Jane’s typical brown. “Can I borrow this?”

“No,” Jane said.

“Mean!” Darcy said. “I love purple way more than you.” She put it back on the dresser and looked at Sarah. Sarah looked awkward. Darcy took pity on her. “I’ll help you with your love spell, as long as it’s not directed at anyone in particular--”

“Thanks,” Sarah begins. “It’s not, I promise.” 

“--but what about you, Janeybug?” Darcy added. She knew Jane had never done one. The Lewis women were famously unlucky in love. The aunts have never been able to stay married, for various reasons; Darcy and Jane’s mother died young, after divorcing Jane’s father. Nobody was quite certain who Darcy’s father was. That made love spells a little treacherous and potentially unruly. And Jane was too academic to care, probably.

“Sure,” Jane said. Darcy was ninety-nine percent sure that her sister was just reading.

  
  


* * *

“You have to ask for him,” Darcy said, as they sat in a circle on the bedroom floor. She’d chalked out a protective space and arranged her rose quartz. The window was open.

“Ask for him?” Sarah said. Darcy had clarified it was a he that she wanted. 

“What he should be like,” Darcy said, passing her a tiny bowl of flower petals. “You ask, then sprinkle these, okay?”

“Oh,” Sarah said. She looked flummoxed. “Nice?” Her voice was tentative. She looked at Darcy, expression panicky. “I don’t know what to ask for.” She looked down at the bowl and back up again. 

“Jane?” Darcy asked. 

“Hmm?” Jane was still reading, even in the circle.

“Why don’t you ask for someone, just to give Sarah an example?” Darcy prompted. She rolled her eyes a little. “A Nobel prize winner, maybe?”

“I’m going to win the Nobel,” Jane said, setting her book down long enough to take the bowl. She looked at the small thing in her hands. “He can be tall and blonde and my trophy husband,” she added, sprinkling the petals gently. 

“Seriously?” Sarah said. Darcy snorted.

“Anything else?” Darcy asked, as the petals started fluttering. Jane might be joking, but she didn’t lack for ability.

“I want him to know all the names of the stars and have blue eyes. He should support my work and he should be helpful and kind,” she said, as they danced and then lifted into the air. 

“Wow,” Sarah said. “That’s--that’s real.”

“Yup,” Darcy said. “As real as anything.”

“I don’t think I can do it,” Sarah said.

“You can,” Darcy said, trying to be encouraging. Sarah might be a little conformist, but Darcy thought people should be happy.

“Will you go first?” Sarah asked. Darcy hesitated.

“Darcy doesn’t believe in love,” Jane cut in. Darcy pulled a face at her sister.

“She already thinks I’m a sociopath, Janey,” she complained. She sighed and looked at Sarah. “I love my family. And puppies. Also, salsa and tortilla chips. I love plenty of things. I just don’t want to be all Hallmark channel mwah mwah mwah, wedding, babies,” she said, miming smacking kisses. “I’m an independent woman. I want someone _special._ ” Someone not from this town, she thought. Or maybe no one at all, she considered, given those rumors that all Lewis women were hella cursed.

“Do it, coward,” Jane said, going back to her book.

“Fine,” Darcy huffed. She took the bowl from Sarah and then looked down at it, taking a deep breath. “I wish for--” she began, then narrowed her eyes at Jane, who’d abandoned the pretense of reading to see what Darcy would pick. “Brown eyes, because blue eyes are overrated--”

“You have blue eyes,” Jane said.

“Shut up.” She stuck her tongue out for a second. “Brown eyes with flecks of green in them,” she added, thinking out loud about ways to make someone impossible. “And he should make good bread, because that’s a useful life skill. And be well-traveled and not small-minded. Or a Republican.” She shut her eyes for a second. “I hope he has a family that I like,” she whispered, more to herself. “And that he accepts me exactly as I am.” She couldn’t imagine it.

“And she says she doesn’t believe in romance,” Jane cracked. Darcy glared. 

“And he can have a face like the devil straight out of hell, because I’m not about superficial looks,” Darcy finished, blowing on her petals for more emphasis. They rose in the air. “As long as he has hair like Elvis,” she joked. They watched as the petals fluttered out the window.

“She likes Elvis and she thinks every guy who plays the devil is hot,” Jane told a surprised-looking Sarah.

“It was Viggo Mortenson,” Darcy chided. “He’s unambiguously hot, even as Lucifer. Besides, my person probably doesn’t even exist.” She rose. “I’ll get you more petals, Sarah.”

She was going into the conservatory when Aunt Maja stopped her. “Darcy Elizabeth Lewis,” she drawled, dark curls piled artfully on her head, “did you make yourself a love spell?”

“Just to make Sarah comfy,” Darcy said stubbornly. “I didn’t really mean it. He doesn’t exist!”

“He doesn’t exist, huh?” Aunt Maja said. “Well, don’t make him too impossible!” 

  
  


* * *

_After Puente Antiguo_

Thor was her soulmate, Jane realized. The guy she’d wished for years ago. That’s what kept her going, eager to build her own Einstein-Rosen Bridge after he fell out of the sky, Darcy knew. It’s what holds them together, even when they don’t admit that they’re from a family of witches--not even Erik knows they’re half-sisters. They kept up the ruse when SHIELD arrived in New Mexico, out of an abundance of caution. Later, they pretend Jane’s stepmom’s house in London is just Jane’s mom’s house. Darcy wonders what their long-dead mother would say about that. She thinks later that Mom would be pleased that they are able to survive the Convergence and the Dark Elves and get Thor back. 

There was a period of irrational optimism after London. Thor and Jane eloped and settled back into the house with Maja and Astrid, so Jane can write a monograph on the stars and Thor can stay off SHIELD’s radar, hidden by the aunts. Darcy--not wanting to attract attention and eager to find her own soulmate, now that things have turned out well for Jane--kissed them goodbye and went in search of adventures. The four of them waved at her from the porch as she drove away. For awhile, they think they are the luckiest Lewis sisters in history.

* * *

Darcy was curled up in bed one afternoon, far away from the family, when Jane called to say Odin wanted Thor back in Asgard. “This is bullshit,” Darcy told Jane over the phone. “What do you mean, he can only spend half the year with you and the baby? You can’t be a part-time husband.”

“A part time husband is better than no husband,” Jane said, voice grim. “I hate Odin.”

“Did he steal this plan from the Greeks? This feels very Persephone and Hades.”

“Odin can go to Hades,” Jane spat out. Darcy heard her sigh. “But tell me about this guy you met?”

“I think--I think he’s wonderful,” Darcy confessed, craning the phone closer. He was asleep. She glanced at him and raked a hand through his dark hair before she got up.

“Ohhh, someone’s smitten,” Jane said. “Finally! I can tell the aunts!”

“Don’t you dare snitch on me, you traitor,” Darcy grumbled. 

“What’s he like?”

“Brave and charming and he’s been all over the world--and please don’t be mad,” Darcy said, shutting herself in the bathroom. “I know how you feel about jackbooted thugs--”

“What?” Jane said. “He’s a cop?”

“He’s SHIELD,” Darcy said. “But we met accidentally, I swear--”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said. “What’s his name?”

“Oh, it’s the best name,” Darcy said, sighing. Whenever she was around him, she felt dreamy.

“The best name,” Jane said, voice wry.

“Grant,” Darcy said. “Grant Ward.”


	2. Light Out for Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Jane found him looking into the bedroom where their daughters’ slept. It was almost dawn. “Jane,” he said quietly. There were lines etched into his face that she hadn’t noticed a few days ago. He hated leaving. 

“You have to go,” Jane said to Thor, resting her cheek against his chest for a moment. He left every year at the summer solstice and afterwards her days were shorter and darker. “But I’m keeping a little bit of sunshine with me,” she told him. He smiled gently. The girls took after him in looks and disposition: Sofie had his physical courage and Frigga had his sweetness and love of animals. Jane stood with her husband for a long moment, listening to him breathe. The sky outside the window went from inky-dark to pale blue and Thor sighed.

“It’s never time enough,” he said.

“No,” Jane said, hating Odin deep into her bones. Odin had a thousand years with Thor and still begrudged her a few, too-short decades. His magic was cruel. But he had no claim to the girls. In a twist of fate, it turned out that declaring their mother a goat had ended any familial claim to the children who slept so peacefully.

“They’ll be taller in January,” he said, sounding wistful. He always returned at the end of January. Lately, he had taken to bribing them with elaborate return presents. 

“And ready to go sledding,” she said. “So you should prepare.” The girls had cried when he returned when they were babies; they had been two when they remembered him well enough not to be afraid of their father. Jane stretched up to kiss him gently. “They love you very much,” she told him. “We all do.” Thor gave her a tiny, somber smile.

“I’ve never doubted that,” he said softly. He looked out of the windows. “I have to go,” he said. He moved across the room and kissed the girls’ foreheads. They stirred, but didn’t wake. He whispered something quietly and then he and Jane went downstairs together. It was still damp in the green summer garden. 

“Be careful,” Jane told him.

“Aren’t I always?” Thor said.

“No,” she said. He laughed joyfully. His Jane was always honest. The sun was rising when he began to swing his hammer.

The aunts were sitting in the kitchen when Jane came inside alone. They always gave she and Thor privacy. “We made you coffee,” Astrid said gently. A spoon rotated by itself in the cup.

“Thank you,” Jane said, feeling deflated. She tried to keep her voice soft and not angry. It wasn’t the aunts’ fault. And they had seen her rage plenty--cursing Odin, kicking the grass, collapsing into sobs, and once blindly breaking some of the family china. Accidentally angry magic. She’d felt guilty for months. Astrid loved that china. Now she merely held the mug in white, tense fingers and tried not to glare out the window. It might break the glass pane.

“Darcy will visit,” Maja said, twirling her own fingers airily to warm Jane's coffee. “She always does.” Darcy somehow managed to drop in every time Thor left; Jane imagined that a thin thread of energy connected them still. Her sister always knew when she was heartbroken.

“She’s preoccupied with Grant,” Jane said, even if she sincerely believed Darcy would show up. 

“Still?” Astrid said. “How many years has it been?” 

“Why does she never bring him?” Maja wondered, always more acerbic and less gentle. “What is he like?”

“Charming,” Jane said. “At least according to Darcy.” 

  
  


* * *

“Grant, I have to go,” Darcy said, dodging his sleepy embrace. She put another t-shirt into her messenger bag. 

“Why?” he said. He was half-asleep, but still pouting.

“My sister needs me,” Darcy said, trying to wiggle away. He caught her wrist.

“I’ll go with you, babe,” he said. Darcy frowned. She’d anticipated that this would be a problem. Grant still didn’t know precisely who her family was--and she wasn’t certain if she wanted SHIELD to know Thor had children on this planet. Not that Grant would ever betray her, but it was difficult to keep a secret. She felt slightly more certain that Grant would understand about her witchcraft, but some part of her still wavered. She didn’t want to frighten away the best man she’d ever dated. “You can’t,” she said, trying to sound like a boring normal girl, “you have work, remember.”

“I have work,” he said, half-rising, “but I can file some PTO.” Darcy sighed and shook her head. 

“No, that’s okay, really,” she said.

“You’re just gonna leave me?” he said. She’d met Grant when he’d transferred to a stateside job under his SHIELD mentor, John Garrett. They hadn’t spent any time apart, except for her brief trips home. She hadn’t told Jane that she’d tumbled into bed with him and never looked back. Darcy sighed. She felt guilty.

“I’m glad you want to go,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. He smiled. “But my sister is having trouble with her husband. It’ll be a tough climate for a man.”

“A tough climate?” he said, grinning. “For me? Babe, you know all women love me.” She laughed. 

“My sister is terrifying, has a mean right hook, and throws plates,” she said. “You get some rest. I’ll be back--”

“Before I know it?” Grant said.

“Yes!” Darcy said, leaning down to kiss him. When she made to pull back, he seized her neck. “Grant!” she cried out. It was startling.

“You’re not leaving me, right?” he said, eyes moving from her face to her back. His serious expression was startling, too. 

“Ow,” Darcy complained. His thumb was pressed against her throat. “Of course not. That hurts--”

“Sorry,” he said, voice light. He released her. “Why don’t you give me your sister’s number? Or the address?”

“I’ll have my cell phone,” she told him, feeling strangely rattled. “My Uber’s here.”

“I’ll carry your bag,” he offered.

“No, no,” Darcy said. “Stay in bed! I love you.” He was frowning on the bed as she left the room. 

“I’m beginning to feel slighted,” Grant called out, as she shut the door.

“Damn,” Darcy muttered.

  
  


* * *

Jane was waiting on the porch when Darcy pulled up in her rental car. “How’d did you know I was coming?” she said, smiling. “It was supposed to be a surprise!” She ran up to her sister and hugged her.

“I saw your favorite crow this morning,” Jane said. 

“Ichabod!” Darcy said happily. She’d helped him once when he’d had a broken wing and now he brought the other crows when they had injuries. She got her suitcase. “Where are the girls?” 

“Eating chocolate cake with the aunts,” Jane said. “They knew you were coming, too.”

“Yum,” Darcy said. “It’s so good to be home.” She twirled a little in the yard. “I miss it here.”

“I thought you couldn’t wait to see the world,” Jane teased. Darcy always said she missed home.

“What’s the world to adorable aunts and nieces and you, Janeybug?” Darcy said. When Frigga and Sofie heard Darcy’s voice they came tearing out into the yard.

“Aunt Darce! Aunt Darce!” the girls yelled.

“Wait, who are you, tall, strange children?” Darcy asked.

“It’s us, we’re just tall,” Sofie said.

“Ninety-fifth percentile,” Jane said. Darcy whistled.

“Come have cake,” Frigga said, seizing her hand.

“Did you bring presents?” Sofie asked.

“Of course I did,” Darcy said.

“We’ve talked about this,” Jane muttered, as the screen door banged behind Sofie. "You spoil them."

"It's my job," Darcy said.

  
  


Darcy stayed a few days, eating cake with the girls and watching movies. She gossiped with the aunts, checked Jane’s note-taking system, and swiped gardenias from the conservatory before she left to wear behind her ear. It was a too-short visit, Jane thought. She missed Darcy, too. But Grant called frequently--several times a day. Finally, Darcy had to leave, if only to prevent him from hopping on a plane and missing work. Jane didn’t understand why it bothered her. Still, something nagged. “Do you think he’s odd?” she asked Aunt Maja quietly, the day after Darcy left the house. Maja looked at her sharply.

“Odd?”

“It gives me an odd feeling,” Jane whispered, putting herbs in a stew. 

“Uh-huh,” Maja said.

“Are you agreeing with me?” Jane asked.

“My darling, I don’t know the man. We’ve never met,” Maja said. 

“That is not reassuring,” Jane said, feeling deflated again. She put down the soup ladle sharply.

“Don’t crack the ladle, you terror,” Maja said affectionately. She patted Jane’s head. “Your sister is a strong woman.”

“I know, I know!” Jane said. “She tased Thor!”

“And don’t you forget it,” Maja said warmly. She practically floated out of the kitchen, humming.

“I know you’re going to flirt with the man at the bookstore,” Jane called. 

“I like a man who’s literate, sue me,” Maja said, waving one of her scarves, as she swung it around her neck.

* * *

Jane tried not to think about it too much. But she had trouble sleeping. Several nights later, she woke up suddenly. “Darcy,” she said. She hurried down the stairs and was in the kitchen doorway when the phone rang.

“Jane?” a low, sad voice said. Tears. Jane could hear her sister had been crying.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Jane asked.

“It’s Grant,” Darcy whispered. “He’s--I gave him belladonna. I had to. I need your help. Come get me, please.” She swallowed audibly and repressed a sob. “He’s HYDRA.”

  
  



	3. Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! TW: domestic violence.

“Will you watch the girls?” Jane said, tossing her phone in her bag. “I’m getting on a plane to go get her. She’s at a hotel with him. I know you have a coven meeting--”

“Of course,” Aunt Astrid said. They were still asleep upstairs. “Don’t worry, darling.”

“We’ll take them to the meeting with us,” Aunt Maja said, nodding. The girls liked hanging out with their aunts, thankfully. 

“They’ll love it,” Astrid said. “Zalena is giving a talk about doing tarot readings over Zoom.”

“I love you,” Jane said, hugging her aunt fiercely. “I’m going to go get Darcy.” 

She glanced back at the aunts before she drove away, feeling sick. There was supposed to be a full moon tonight, but it was hidden by clouds. A bad sign, she thought. 

Hours later, Jane’s Uber pulled up at a ratty-looking motel off the highway. “Please wait right here,” she said. It had rained earlier.

“Sure,” her driver said. Jane nodded, then stepped nervously out of the car. She didn’t know what she was walking into. “32B,” she whispered to herself. “32B.” She found the room number and cautiously pushed the door open. “Darcy?” she said quietly.

“Jane?” a muffled voice said. Jane rushed into the room, momentarily forgetting caution. She found a frightened Darcy huddled in the corner. “You’re hurt,” Jane said. There were purple bruises along her cheek and a cut on her forehead. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, wiping at one eye. “He didn’t like the idea of me leaving--”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Jane said, coaxing Darcy to her feet. 

“He had a tablet,” Darcy rambled, “full of HYDRA files. His mentor is HYDRA.” Darcy threw several items into a bag. “I tried to send an email to that old address for Phil Coulson--” she said.

“It’s okay, we’re going.” Jane led her sister out of the motel room. “The car’s right there,” she said. The Uber was waiting. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. Jane thought she looked dazed. Her voice sounded numb. They were crossing the damp parking lot when Darcy suddenly pulled away. “My journal,” she said anxiously. “I left it in the car--I can’t leave it. He could use it to find them. He could find the girls.” She went to a sedan in the parking lot and was looking through the front seats when she disappeared from Jane’s view.

“Darcy--” Jane began scoldingly, going around the the side of the car. “What are you do--”

“She’s been unavoidably detained,” the dark-haired man in the backseat said. He was holding a gun to Darcy’s head and a bottle in the other. “You drive.” He waved the gun towards the driver’s seat. 

“I’m sorry,” Darcy whispered. She was looking at Jane. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Ward said, voice slightly slurred. “This is the best thing that could have possibly happened, babe.” As Jane watched in horror, he squeezed Darcy. “Everybody’s getting their happy ending. Darce and I will get married and I’ll get a big, big promotion--”

“Grant,” Darcy pleaded, “please.” He took a swig of liquor and laughed at her.

“Get in the car, Dr. Foster,” he said.

* * *

Darcy watched Jane drive, wanting to vomit, as they headed down the highway. The windshield wipers rotated back and forth. It had started to rain again. She was sweating. She could see Grant’s gun in her peripheral vision. The belladonna didn’t seem to have sedated him like it should. She looked at Ward nervously. He smiled. “You want a drink, doctor?” he offered Jane. She felt a swell of nausea again. 

“No,” Jane said. Darcy could see her knuckles squeezing the steering wheel. They were pale white against the dark material.

“So,” Ward said to Jane. “Where are the kids?”

“Excuse me?” Jane said. He snorted. 

“You don’t think we’re interested in Thor’s children?” Grant asked. “My mentor, John--Darcy’s met John, haven’t you, honey?--he’s very interested in your kids.” He smiled brightly as Darcy made an involuntary sound of distress. “Imagine how smart they are. You’re a leading scientific mind and he’s an Asgardian.”

“Is that right?” Jane said. She sounded brittle to Darcy. Jane glanced at her in the rearview mirror. _Belladonna,_ Darcy mouthed. There was more in her bag. If Jane could give him more--

“What would happen to them if they were exposed to the Tesseract?” Grant wondered aloud. He sounded pleased. Darcy lost it then, starting to cry. “Don’t cry,” he said, first in a soft voice. That only made her sob harder. “What’d I say? Don’t cry,” he said, more sternly. He slapped her head roughly and when Darcy raised her hands to defend herself, Grant hit harder. “Fucking listen to me!” he snapped. His slaps stung her face. Darcy cried, shaking.

“Hey!” Jane yelled, “stop that, you asshole!” The swerving of the car got his attention. “Stop!” Jane yelled. “Give me that,” she said, snatching Grant’s bottle. She took a swig and then wedged the bottle on her lap. 

“Grant,” Darcy pleaded, trying to distract him from what Jane was doing in the front of the car. “Please.” She turned his face towards her. He smiled at her.

“Don’t be sad, babe,” he said, cupping her chin. “This is a great day.” Darcy tried to control her expression. He chuckled. “Don’t you love me?” He shook her face slightly. “Say it.”

“I love you,” Darcy repeated, voice flat. 

“That’s my girl. Hey,” he said, looking at Jane. Darcy stiffened. “Where’s that bottle?”

“Here,” Jane said.

* * *

“What’s he doing?” Jane asked, as Darcy peered through the back window of the car. Her sister’s face was stricken. Jane was worried about Darcy; Ward’s slaps had looked rough. But the belladonna wasn’t working like it was supposed to. He’d finished off the bottle, but remained awake. Alarmingly awake, Jane thought.

“Peeing,” Darcy said, voice anxious. “Just drive away, Jane. Go, go!”

“He’s still got the gun,” Jane said. “I’m not getting us shot.” She was afraid Ward would aim for Darcy.

“Jane!” Darcy begged. “Just go--” She stopped when Ward loomed out of the dark and Jane went tense. Had he heard them?

“You’re leaving me?” Ward said, slurring. “You want to leave me?” His voice went up in anger. As Jane watched in horror, he seized Darcy’s neck and began strangling her.

“Stop!” Jane screamed, as Darcy tried to flail and crawl away. Ward was on top of her when Jane seized the empty bottle from the car’s floorboard and hit him with it. He stopped moving. “Oh thank God,” Jane said. He was unconscious--finally. “We’ll just leave him here,” she said, trying to hoist Ward by his shirt. When she lifted him a fraction, Darcy shrieked. “What is it?” she said.

“Oh, no, oh, no,” Darcy said. “Noooo.”

“What?”

“I think he’s dead, Jane.”

“Shit,” Jane said. “What do we do?” She looked at Darcy. Darcy looked at her. They looked at the limp Grant Ward. 

“We have to bring him back,” Darcy said. “Can we do that?”

“If I can build a BiFrost Bridge, I can bring back one lousy dead HYDRA agent,” Jane said. She needed to sound confident. She couldn’t go to jail. Her children needed her. And Darcy got panicky whenever Jane showed trepidation.

“Okay,” Darcy said, expression hopeful and sad all at once. Jane steeled herself. She was the big sister. She had responsibilities.

  
  


* * *

The sight of home made Darcy want to weep. They’d gotten to the house after dark, but she’d almost broken down at the sight of her old bedroom window. Home meant safe. The aunts could help. “Where are they?” Darcy asked, as she held up Grant’s feet. She and Jane were struggling to carry Grant into the house. “We’ll need their help with the spell.”

“They’re away,” Jane said, stumbling and swearing. “Fuck!” She’d almost fallen when Grant’s weight shifted. He was heavy. His head hit the grass with a thud. 

“Shit,” Darcy said. She looked at Grant. How had she ever loved him? How could she have been so blind? “Should we wait for them?” she asked, wavering as she clutched his ankles.

“No,” Jane said.

“Jane--”

“He’s not gonna keep,” Jane said grimly. “Let’s get him inside.” They lugged Ward to the kitchen island and put his body down. 

“I’m going to vomit,” Darcy said, leaning down and resting her hands on her knees. She gulped air. Her back ached and her heart raced.

“I’m getting the book,” Jane said, voice crisp.

“How are you so calm?” Darcy muttered. 

“We can do this,” Jane said, bringing back the aunt’s spellbook. Darcy looked at Grant’s ashen face in horror. She couldn’t stop staring at him. It was horrifying. “Darcy,” Jane said sternly. “Start brewing--the stove, the stove. We don’t have a ton of time.” Feeling dazed, Darcy turned a knob and the old stove lurched to life. She started gathering ingredients and putting them in a large pot. _Breathe,_ she told herself, _breathe._

The liquid bubbled and she jumped.

“Ready?” Jane said. They were reading out the spell. 

“We’re putting needles through his eyes?” Darcy said, horrified. 

“We’ve been through this,” Jane said. Darcy looked at the needle her sister was holding and felt another rise of bile in her throat. She’d dry heaved twice already. “It’s part of the spell--” she was saying, when there was movement on the table. Darcy hadn’t noticed the flickering of Grant’s eyelids as he woke and moved suddenly, groaning.

“Ahhh!” Darcy screamed, as Grant seized her neck again. His fingers felt like ice against her skin.

“Say it!” he yelled, voice too loud as she struggled to breathe. “Say you love me! Who’s my girl?” Darcy felt his hands squeeze tighter. She was aware of Jane screaming behind Grant.

“Who’s my girl?” he yelled, eyes glassy and vacant. There was a sudden series of _thunks_ and he released her. Darcy stumbled backwards, gasping for air. Jane was standing in front of her, holding a cast iron pan. She lowered it slowly. Darcy could see her panting.

“Are you okay?” Jane said.

“I th--think so,” Darcy said. Her own voice sounded hoarse in her ears. She looked at Grant. “Is--is he dead again?” Something dark was pooling around his head. Jane knelt down and put her fingers on his neck.

“Yes,” she said. “We’ll bury him this time. In the garden.”

Wordlessly, Darcy nodded. Her throat ached. 

  
  



	4. Good Riddance, Asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy and Jane buried Grant in the garden, away from the patio and underneath the climbing roses. Lady in Red roses, Darcy remembered. She’d chosen the roses herself, years ago. She’d thought the red color was beautiful. They were blood red. As red as the blood in the kitchen... “Oh God,” Darcy muttered to herself, feeling like she could faint.

“It’s okay,” Jane said, voice steely. “If you need to take a break…”

“No,” Darcy said. “I’m not leaving you.” She heard her voice crack, but kept shoveling. _Thunk. Thunk._ Each round of dirt echoed in the dark. She looked at Jane when the last shovel of dirt went into the shallow grave over his body.

“Good riddance, asshole,” Jane said venomously. Darcy stared at the dirt. “What is it?” her sister asked.

“Should we do….something? Hide the dirt?” Darcy offered. They were both covered in dirt and blood. 

“I’ll do it,” Jane said. “Go inside. We need to get cleaned up.”

“Okay.” When Jane came in, Darcy was scrubbing the blood off the floor. She looked up. “What are we going to tell the aunts?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Jane said, then her expression softened. “Not yet. I’ll explain.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She felt numb. If she wept herself to sleep, not even she knew why.

  
  


The aunts and Sofie and Frigga came home the next morning. Darcy came downstairs when she saw the car out of the upstairs window. Jane was in the kitchen, but came to the hallway. Darcy looked at Jane for guidance. Jane shook her head fiercely. That meant no talking, Darcy knew. Still, she felt herself holding her breath as her little family came up the walk. Would the aunts see it? The aunts saw everything. Darcy started to shake. “Darcy,” Jane hissed. “Calm down.”

“All right,” Darcy whispered hotly. Just then, the girls saw her through the screen door. Frigga’s face lit up and they started to run. Frigga hit the screen door with a bang that made Darcy jump and barreled into her. “Hey, sweetie!” Darcy said, smiling weakly.

“Mommy! Aunt Darce!” Sofie squealed, on her sisters’ heels.

“Babies,” Darcy said in a soft voice. 

“Oh darling,” Aunt Astrid said, touching Darcy’s bruised cheek. “I’ll make you some tea.”

“He’s taken care of?” Aunt Maja said, more sharply. She was standing in the doorway. Darcy realized she had gone still.

“I took care of it,” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed mechanically. She tried to behave normally. She pretended, even though it didn’t feel right, when Aunt Maja’s eyes studied her closely. When odd things started happening around the house that afternoon. First the milk soured, then the butter went rancid in the butter dish. The chocolate cake she made for Sofie and Frigga didn’t rise. Darcy set the pan on the countertop and felt tears welling up in her eyes. She looked at the girls. “I’m sorry,” she told them, “so sorry.” Their faces were so disappointed. 

“It’s fine,” Jane said sharply. Darcy flinched. “I’m sure it’s fine, Darce,” she added, more softly.

“We’ll try it anyway,” Frigga said.

“Don’t cry, Aunt Darce,” Sofie said.

“Thanks, guys,” Darcy said. “I just--I just need a minute, I’m probably tired.” She wiped at her cheek roughly. She avoided the aunts as she hurried upstairs. Both she and Jane missed Maja and Astrid’s glances.

* * *

“Darce?” Jane said, pushing Darcy’s bedroom door open. Darcy was lying on the bed with her back to the door. Jane had gone upstairs to put away some laundry and check on Darcy; she knew without seeing her face that Darcy had been crying. “Listen, you shouldn’t feel--” she began, just before she heard a noise. She paused in the doorway to Darcy’s bedroom. “What are they doing?” she said out loud. It was a loud, grinding sound. Darcy sat up, face still tear stained.

“It sounds like the blender,” Darcy said, frowning. “Are they doing a spell?” Jane turned and went to the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?” she yelled down.

“Margaritas!” the aunts called up.

“Why?” Darcy asked. Jane shrugged.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty,” Jane whispered.

“But I do,” Darcy said. “And stupid. I feel so stupid and...like if someone touched me, I could literally break.” She sniffled.

“Fake being normal until you feel normal again,” Jane advised.

“Jane--”

“He was a HYDRA goon who lied to you for years to get to my children,” Jane seethed. “I’m not going to feel sorry for him.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“I do feel sorry for you,” Jane said, hugging her tightly. “We love you. We need you. Come downstairs and lie to our aunts, please?”

“You’d think I’d be better at it, given all we’ve been through,” Darcy murmured, as she followed Jane down to the kitchen.

“Margarita?” Aunt Astrid offered, holding out a glass. It seemed to glow a neon green.

* * *

Something about the margaritas was...wrong, too, Darcy registered. She’d had two when things in the room started to go sideways. They were all laughing too loud. The edges of her vision were misty, too. “I’m glad you didn’t bring him home,” Aunt Astrid was saying, when Darcy heard her words. Jane was laughing.

“What?” Darcy said, feeling woozy.

“Grant!” Maja said. “She means Grant.”

“She loved him!” Astrid said.

“Much more than Ian,” Maja said, nodding drunkenly. “But who could ever love an Ian?” She sneered.

“Ian wasn’t so bad,” Darcy said, feeling defensive.

“You don’t have the best taste in men, darling,” Maja said. “It’s family trait.”

“Hey!” Jane said. “Thor is wonderful!”

“And only here part time,” Astrid said, with a kind of simplicity that was cutting.

“Uh-huh,” Maja said. Darcy saw Jane’s stricken expression.

“Who knew Grant was a bad one?” Astrid continued. “I’m glad he never came here.” Just the thought did something to Darcy. She and Jane looked at each other. Darcy felt the tears again.

“No,” Jane said. “No, no, no. Darcy!”

“I can’t help it,” Darcy said, starting to sob. “He--he--” Just then, she looked at the liquor bottle. “Where did you get this?” she asked, weepiness turning to panic. 

“Someone left it,” Astrid said. She hiccupped. “On the porch.”

“Oh God,” Darcy said, horrified. It was Grant’s brand. Jane snatched the bottle and smashed it in the sink. Darcy was looking at Jane when Maja spoke.

“What is going on?” she said.

“Nothing,” Jane said. Darcy knew the aunts could tell Jane was lying.

* * *

“Aunt Maja?” Sofie said sleepily, as Maja slipped a bracelet on her wrist. It was the middle of the night.

“You keep this on, baby,” Maja said, kissing her forehead. 

“Your sister, too,” Astrid whispered. “It will keep you both safe.” She smiled and both aunts turned towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Frigga asked.

“Giving your mom and Darcy time to clean up their own mess,” Maja said, looking back. “They need to learn to be honest.”

“I don’t like it,” Astrid admitted, as they left the house. 

“It’s not like we can give them truth serum,” Maja said. “And you know how stubborn Jane is.”

“I wonder who she gets that from?” Astrid said wryly.

* * *

Darcy cried herself to sleep again and woke up with a hangover the next morning. “Ughhhh,” she said, stumbling into the kitchen. “Jane?” she said. Jane was standing in front of the frying pan. “What’s that smell?”

“I burned the damn eggs,” Jane said sourly. “My head’s pounding and the coffee pot is spraying water every-fucking-where--”

“Oh, no,” Darcy said. “I’m sure we can fix it.” 

But her attempts to fix the pot were a disaster: she got water all over the counter top, burned her fingers, and irritated an already-miserable Jane. “Sofie,” Jane said, catching the little girl looking out the window. “Well you go outside and get the aloe plant off the patio--”

“I can’t,” Sofie said. “Not with him out there.”

“Who?” Darcy said. Frigga joined her sister at the window.

“The man under the roses,” Frigga said. Darcy looked at Jane in horror. 

“Where are the aunts?” Jane asked.

“They left,” Sofie said. 

“They said clean up your mess,” Frigga added. She pressed her nose against the glass. “I don’t like him.”

“Me, neither,” Sofie said. When Darcy looked out the window, she didn’t see anything. Somehow, that was more frightening.

“Don’t freak out,” Jane said, as she gagged. 

“I can’t help it!” Darcy was dry-heaving in the sink when the doorbell rang. They looked at each other again.

“I’ll see who it is,” Jane said.

“Be careful,” Darcy said, trying to wipe her mouth with a towel. The girls came over and fussed over her as Jane stomped to the door. “Hello?” Darcy heard Jane say.

“Dr. Foster,” a familiar voice said. Darcy froze. There was no way it was him.

“Hello?” she heard Jane stutter in surpise. Darcy stepped out into the hallway. It couldn’t be, she thought. Everyone said he was dead. What was he doing here? She could see half of him, standing on the porch. 

“I’m here about Grant Ward,” he said. He was wearing aviators. His tie fluttered in the breeze.

“Phil?” Darcy said, stunned. “I thought--”

“Hello, Darcy,” Phil Coulson said back in a pleasant voice.

“You were dead,” Jane finished.

“Hi,” Darcy said.

“I got your email,” Phil said, stepping into the house. “I’m here about Ward.”

“Where’s your warrant?” Jane asked.

“Why would I need a warrant, doctor?” Phil asked, voice still mild. “This is my partner, Commander Rumlow. I’m just here to ask some questions--” he said, when Darcy realized there was another man standing on the porch. He had his back to her, but he was wearing a SHIELD windbreaker and dark pants. 

“What questions?” Jane said, following Phil past Darcy and into the kitchen. Darcy watched them go.

“This Ward’s handiwork?” a voice said. She turned and realized the other man was gazing down at her. His face was badly burned. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Yes.” 

“Sorry,” he said, “didn’t mean to startle you.” Rumlow was studying her injuries, expression ambiguous. Were they here to arrest them, she wondered?

“No,” she stuttered, “you didn’t.” 

“Sometimes, I do,” he said, giving her a fleeting smile. Darcy’s eyes flickered to his face. Scars traced over his cheekbones and across his forehead. There were deep gauges in his skin under his five o’clock shadow. One of his ears was mangled. But his dark hair was glossy and perfect.

“Do you mind?” he said, reaching for her chin with two finger tips. She shook her head and he turned her face gently. She couldn’t read his expressions, but they changed subtly as he looked at her. He frowned, but somehow she knew he wasn’t frowning at her. There was something oddly comforting in it. It made her want to talk. 

“I got away from him,” she stammered nervously. “I found out he was HYDRA, so I emailed Phil and tried to leave and--and…” Rumlow’s mouth had flattened into a thin line. There were scars on his chin, she realized, when he tilted it up and the hall light hit it.


	5. Not Without A Warrant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Your children look very...tall and blonde,” Phil said mildly to Jane. He was watching the girls in the conservatory, Darcy realized, dragging her eyes away from Rumlow. She’d moved around the kitchen island, trying not to look at the burned agent. He might think she was being rude. Still, she wanted to look at him. It was like he pulled her attention. Not maliciously. He felt strangely comforting.

“So, I have a type,” Jane said flatly. “What of it?”

“Plenty of women have types,” Phil said. Darcy glanced up at Rumlow again. He was looking directly at her, frowning. When she gave him a weak smile, thinking _be normal be normal be normal,_ the corners of his mouth turned up. She couldn’t decide if his smile was naughty or angry. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she couldn’t help smiling back. She realized she was grinning like an idiot. He smiled back, then frowned. 

“Show ‘em the file, Phil,” Rumlow said suddenly. “They need to know, in case Ward turns up again.”

“What?” Darcy said, then regretted her tone. Jane looked at her sharply as Rumlow stepped around the kitchen island to stand in front of her.

“You were lucky,” Rumlow said in a rough voice, as Phil put a file on the kitchen table. Phil opened it. Darcy looked from Rumlow to the file and back again.

“Very lucky,” Phil said. Rumlow moved--and pulled a chair out for her. He gestured and she sat down. Darcy was acutely aware of him standing behind her as Phil went through the file. Ward wasn’t just HYDRA, he was implicated in all kinds of things. Including seducing several women for information that HYDRA wanted.

“He got around,” Darcy said, feeling a kind of hollow bitterness, when Phil was quietly explaining the case of a infectious disease scientist in the Virginia suburbs. She was one of several duped women, Darcy thought.

“We found her body in a parking garage,” Rumlow said from behind Darcy. She jumped. Jane glared at him.

“There’s no reason to terrify her,” Jane said.

“Sorry,” Rumlow said. Darcy suddenly felt his hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said. Darcy turned her to look at him. His fingers kneaded into her tense muscles.

“You didn’t--didn’t scare me,” she told him. “I was thinking about her.” They locked eyes for a long moment.

“He worked on you a long time,” Rumlow said. His hands had a scarred texture against her skin.

“Agent Rumlow?” Phil prompted.

“Yeah?” Rumlow said, fingers stilling.

“Have a seat,” Phil said, giving his hands a pointed glance. He looked at Jane and Darcy. “It’s a long file,” he added. It took them more than an hour to go through it all. The girls came in mid-litany. Phil paused. 

“I’ll--” Darcy began, but Rumlow stood up first. 

“Can you show me the, uh, plant room?” he said, smiling at them awkwardly. Darcy saw Jane nod at Sofie and Frigga.

“Yes!” Frigga said. She loved the conservatory. To Darcy’s surprise, she grabbed Rumlow’s hand and led him into the glass walled room off the kitchen. Sofie was singing a little made up song. The conservatory door shut behind them with a _thwack._

“They don’t need to hear this,” Phil said.

“No,” Jane and Darcy said in unison. Phil looked at them for a moment.

“I’m glad you’re both safe,” he said. He turned a page and began talking about another woman and Ward’s potential whereabouts. Darcy peered over his shoulder. Sofie was showing Rumlow some of her favorite plants. He was smiling gently. The aged glass softened out his scars and the lights above cast a golden glow on his face. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was like Phil’s voice had turned distant and remote, even though he was asking when she’d last seen Grant.

“Darcy,” Jane said, elbowing her a little. “Darcy--”

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“What is wrong with you?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know--” Darcy stuttered.

“Agent Rumlow has a powerful effect on people,” Phil said dryly.

“Oh,” Darcy said, blushing weirdly. “I’m sure--sure he does,” she said. “I last saw Grant the day he--when I sent you the email.”

“Uh-huh,” Phil said.

“And I picked her up,” Jane said quickly.

“She did pick me up and we left,” Darcy said. She felt like it was obvious she was lying. Phil shut the file and steepled his hands on top.

“So, you haven’t seen him since?” he asked.

“No,” Jane said. “He’s...not in our lives anymore.”

“No?” Phil said, shifting his gaze to Darcy. 

“No,” Darcy said. “I never want to see him again.”

“I would hope not,” Phil said.

“I wouldn’t let him near her,” Jane vowed. “He’s obviously a psychopath.” Phil nodded. 

“I wouldn’t disagree,” he said. Phil followed Darcy’s look. She was watching Rumlow talk to Frigga. “What I wanted to ask you about is Ward’s vehicle,” Phil said.

“Darcy,” Jane said.

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“The one parked outside?” Phil offered. Darcy’s heart thudded in her chest. She’d forgotten the car. _Oh God, oh God, oh God..._

“We borrowed it,” Jane lied. “He’d beat up my sister, so we borrowed his car to get out of there.”

“You borrowed it?” Phil said. He was perfectly calm. Rumlow stepped into the kitchen, looking at them.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Darcy said. “We had to.”

“If you hear from him, we’ll need to return it,” Jane said, giving Darcy a pointed look. 

“No need,” Phil said. “I’m leaving Rumlow here to drive it back. It’s evidence.”

“You are?” Darcy asked, as Rumlow’s eyebrows went up.

“Yes,” Phil said, gathering his files. “Rumlow?”

“Sir?” he said. He’d been watching her, Darcy realized. She bit her lip. 

“I’m leaving,” Phil said. “You are, too.”

“I thought--” the other man began.

“We’re checking you into a hotel,” Phil said. “You will be staying in town.”

“The Seaview is nice,” Darcy said, “for a motel. You can see the ocean.”

“Yeah?” Rumlow said. He was looking at her again. 

“It’s like a quarter inch of ocean view out of one window,” Jane said, giving Darcy a stern look.

“On the left side,” Darcy said, unable to stop looking at him.

“Left side,” he repeated. She walked with the two men to the front door. Jane kept looking at her oddly as Rumlow turned back to glance at Darcy. “I told the girls I’d teach ‘em to make bread,” he said, as they reached the door.

“What?” Jane said.

“They were showing me rosemary,” he said, as if that explained something.

“I can’t,” Darcy said. “Bread, I mean. I can do cake, but not bread.”

“They told me,” he said. Phil was waiting for him on the porch, face shielded by aviators.

“Ladies, it’s nice to see you again,” Phil said, descending the steps.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Darcy told him.

“Me, too,” Phil said. Rumlow joined him at the bottom, glancing back at Darcy. At that moment, the girls came skidding down the hallway, laughing.

“Bye!” Sofie called as she reached the porch.

“Byeeeeeee!” Frigga shrieked.

“Behave,” Rumlow told them.

“Nope!” Sofie said, laughing.

“Which one of you did she learn that from?” Phil asked, opening his car door.

“I’ll come get the car tomorrow,” Rumlow said. “Don’t touch it anymore.”

“No,” Darcy said, feeling the strangest urge to confess everything to him. 

“Good,” Rumlow said. He unthreaded the sunglasses from his shirt collar and put them on. He smiled at the girls. “You don’t touch it, either,” he said soberly.

“Yep!” Frigga said.

“Uh-huh,” Sofie said, nodding.

Darcy watched as they drove away. The girls chased each other, shrieking, on the lawn. She thought Rumlow looked back at her and took a half-step in that direction. “Darce, what is going on with you?” Jane said, stopping her as her foot wavered above the porch steps.

“Whoops. I don’t know,” Darcy admitted again. She felt pulled in his direction. A squealing Sofie barreled into her with a thud. “Whoa!” Darcy said.

“We like him!” Sofie said.

“Who?” Jane said.

“Mr. Brock,” Frigga said. “He’s making us bread.”

“No,” Jane said, “he is not. Not without a warrant.”

“You’re not scared of him?” Darcy said.

“No, no, no,” Frigga singsonged. 

“He’s nice,” Sofie insisted. “I can tell.”

“You can’t tell from looking at someone--” Jane began.

“Yes, I _can,”_ Sofie insisted.

“Sofie,” Jane began, “plenty of normal-looking people are _dangerous--”_

“She sees with more than eyes,” Frigga said, sounding oddly formal.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Daddy says so, just like Grandma Frigga,” her namesake said. 

“The man under the roses is not good,” Sofie said. “Mr. Brock is good. One _looks_ nice, the other doesn’t. I know the difference, Mom.”

“What does the man under the roses look like?” Jane said.

“Brown hair--” Sofie was saying, when Darcy grabbed her phone.

“Like this?” she said, showing Sofie a photo of Grant.

“Yes,” Sofie and Frigga nodded in unison.

“Shit,” Jane said. She’d gone pale.

Once the girls went to sleep, Darcy and Jane spent all night looking through the grimoire for spells about ghosts. Darcy turned the page of her book, sighed, and looked at Sofie and Frigga sleeping. Darcy had made them a bed of quilts and a blanket fort in the living room. She and Jane were afraid to let them out of their sight, but Darcy tried to pretend everything was fine. She set her book down and seized the next one. Flicking through the pages, she stopped suddenly. “Here’s one for banishment of evil spirits,” Darcy said. 

“Flag it,” Jane said. They were researching and cross-referencing. Darcy felt queasy and uncertain. She looked around. Were the lights on the porch dimmer, she thought, glancing out the window? Jane caught her expression. “We shouldn’t have buried him so near the house,” she said, voice grim.

“It’s my fault,” Darcy said, feeling sick again.

“It’s not your fault, you saw the file today,” Jane said. She sighed. “Should we banish Rumlow?”

“What?” Darcy said. “No, I--”

“I know you feel sorry for him,” Jane said. “But just because he’s been hurt and he’s nice to my kids, that doesn’t make him safe, Darce.”

“I--you heard Sofie,” Darcy said defensively. “He’s _good,_ Jane.”

“I don’t trust it,” Jane said. 

“I look at him and I feel safe.” Darcy said quietly. “Not sorry for him. Safe.”

“That’s exactly how cops want you to feel, so you’ll walk right into a false confession,” Jane said. “He’s probably Mr. Interrogation technique.” 

Darcy sighed and rubbed her forehead. She had a headache again. It felt like her skull was thudding. She’d silently flagged thirty spells with Post-It tabs when she realized Jane was asleep and closed her own book. Maybe she could sleep.

* * *

Darcy didn’t expect to see Rumlow around town, but she saw him as she dropped the girls off at school. He was talking to one of the PTA moms. He waved and she waved back. She drove past him carefully, feeling like she should be holding her breath. Was the PTA mom flirting with him, she wondered? The jealousy she felt was weird, until it dawned on her that she’d felt like that in high school. Her bruises were giving her issues, too. People kept casting glances at her. That was why she felt so unsettled. She was turning it over in her mind when he walked into her favorite coffee shop. She was in line. “Tired?” Rumlow asked, as she quickly hid a yawn. 

“Um, yeah. I didn’t sleep well last night,” she confessed. She’d woken at four in the morning, knocking her book off the couch as she flailed. It had been a nightmare about Grant.

“You don’t have anything for that?” he said, leaning closer to her ear. “Belladonna, maybe?”

“What?” Darcy said, startled.

“I’ve been hearing things about your family,” he said, voice casual. “Everyone in town says you’re different--”

“That we’re witches?” Darcy asked sharply. The barista was listening, but she didn’t care. She felt a weird stab of anger. She’d felt jealous of the pretty, blonde, unbruised woman at the elementary school when she imagined her asking him on dates, but the idea that people were spreading rumors about her, Jane, and the aunts upset her in a visceral way. 

“Something like that,” Rumlow said, tilting his head at her shift in tone. “That you can do things. Why didn’t you hex him?”

“What?” Darcy said.

“Ward,” he said. He gestured gently to the bruises on her face.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Darcy grumbled. “I can’t just do things to people! I can’t even bake bread.”

“Oh yeah,” Rumlow said, smiling. “Speaking of that, you want some help this afternoon?”

“Oh,” Darcy said, torn. “I---I would like that,” she stuttered. 

“Good,” he said. “I’ve got a tow truck coming for Ward’s car anyway.” Her stomach lurched. Darcy tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want him to spot her anxiety. She tried to smile. Luckily, she was next in line. “Mochas, right?” Rumlow said, stepping around her. “I got this,” he said, setting a twenty on the counter. 

“How did you know that?” Darcy said.

“I know all kinds of things,” Rumlow told her, grinning. She didn’t know what to say. 


End file.
